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After brunch, indulged in a 'light session' in the pool, and then went to watch the Italian footy on TV. Ha - seeing this reminds me, I taught those boys at Wycombe everything they know about the Italians. Designer suits, pucker restaurants, Kappa tracksuits half price. I like the pace of the Italian game as well - suits my cultured style of play, if you know I mean.
Monday: Arose (late) at 9:00 for the long trek to Wycombe in the Jag. Don't mind the journey in such a suave beast - she purrs to me, think I know her even more intimately than the bread knife - heh, heh. Only joking, Sweet'eart. Put me foot down along the M40 but still got 100 press-ups from Gibbo for being late - didn't mind taking the shirt off and showing me pecs to a load of schoolgirls who had apparently come for a visit round the ground. More likely to ogle at me if they know what's good for them.
Tuesday: Light training session today, followed by 30 mins signing autographs to post out (writer's cramp - bane of my life, might have to see a specialist about it), and then a 'tactical talk' from the gaffer - I knew it all anyway. Got my agent to register www.stewartcastledine.com - I'm planning to start my own web-site like all those other top footballers, sorted. Well, got to keep the baying fans happy, haven't you? Cut my tongue licking envelopes - TCP anyone?
Bugger - on the bench again tonight, I'm thinking of telling the gaffer that I won't hang around here forever, I've got Premiership clubs literally queuing up for my services. Bit like the females, come to think of it. Holy cow, I'm a stud - pass me a mirror. Came on for 10 minutes towards the end, practically turned the game around, although we were 3-0 down at the time, so it was asking a lot of me. Saw the video later - looking mighty fine, I must say, although some shyster keeps shrinking my shorts - what's that all about?
Wednesday: Car broke down on the way in - bloody Jag, I hate the thing. English quality? My arse - I've already got me eye on a 18 month old Merc that a mate can get me a 'good deal' on, if you catch my drift? Sweet as. Only got the Jag because I thought it might make me look a bit more 'film star'. Talking of which, I've pencilled in a career on the silver screen when I finally retire from the beautiful game. Hasn't done Vinnie Jones much harm, has it? Plus I don't look like a warthog sipping bleach either - me and Jonesy go back a while, so I can say that. I'm hoping the missus can put a few good words in for me as well as she knows a few people in high places - marvellous.
Thursday: Played a full game for the reserves - I was magnificent in a 4-1 defeat. Taught the youngsters on show a thing or two about class. You don't need to chase the game when you've got the quality in your two boots that I have - I was laying it on a plate for Messrs Phelon and Senda up front, hardly my fault if they run the other way to my passes, is it? Still, scored our goal - a beautiful curler from 35 yards out.
Martyn Lee persisted in taking the razz out of me saying it was a mis-hit, wind-assisted cross, but I put the young whippersnapper in his place - might have dented his FA Cup semi-final chances with that arm lock though, so if you're reading this, Mart - sorry mate. Well, you've got to take your opportunities, haven't you? Even if it is at young Martyn's expense.
Friday: Did my bit for the community by opening a school bazaar - procedes to the hospital. The kids all loved having a national soccer hero there, of course, and the female teachers could hardly keep their grubby mitts off me! Not a word to the Trouble, mind.
Brownie's struggling with a knock, so I'm quietly confident of a start tomorrow, going out to a showbiz do this evening with Lucy - must make sure I don't overdo it. 'Everything in moderation, Stewart' - a motto my dear old gran got me to swear upon. Bless her, she didn't realise the larger than life personality I would inevitably become.....
Saturday: Arses - dropped from the first team squad. Feeling rougher than a roofer's kneecaps today - think the gaffer spotted it as well. Boss had everyone in early doing all manner of tests on them, turns out I've got the highest body fat ratio of the squad. Not my fault if the machine went haywire is it? It's all muscle that, pure and simple - these so called 'experts' that the club forks out a small fortune on, want to come and watch me play, rather than scoff enviously at my physique.
The boys played well and won 2-0 - just my presence in the paddock obviously inspired them. Confident of a Cup Semi-Final place still. Off for a 15-miler to keep the knockers happy. Until next time, footy friends.
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The Adams Family 1992-1998
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